Summary: At the start of Potter's second year at Hogwarts, additional duties fall on Severus Snape's shoulders with the arrival of an unexpected—and unwanted—guest. Overall story occurs from CoS to post-DH. AU, EWE.
Warnings: AU, EWE.
Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made by the humble (and quite poor) fanfic author, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/Ns:Non-canon Latin words/translations are from .edu. References include The Harry Potter Lexicon and Potterwords.
Although potions ingredients in this fiction story are sometimes listed as possible treatments, none of them should be used for such purposes unless in consultation with a qualified medical doctor.
oOo
Principles and Honor
By NewMewn
Chapter 2
"The name is Beasley, and she believes," Snape reported sardonically, "that this is some type of upper-class Muggle establishment catering to those on holiday."
Dumbledore stood silently, turning over that fact in his mind. "If she is a Muggle," he said, more to himself than the younger, darker man, "how could she have boarded the Hogwarts Express, seen the castle, and gotten through the Muggle-repelling charms?"
"Perhaps there is more to this," Severus suggested. "I could not see any thoughts indicating she is anything but Muggle. There was no evidence of blocking, but if she's a skillful Occlumens …"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Well," he decided, "if she believes this is a hotel, it shall be for the night. And tomorrow morning, you shall see her aboard the Hogwarts Express and Obliviate her. She shall be taken to the Muggle station nearest her true destination, with nary a memory of Hogwarts and what she sees here."
"Headmaster." Only Snape's eyes and mouth moved as he stood exceptionally still. "The Dark Arts could be involved. The ability to breach powerful and ancient magic should not be discounted."
Tugging at his beard, the elder wizard sighed. "No, it should not," he agreed. "The sooner she is removed, the sooner we can reexamine the school's security to ensure this cannot happen again."
Dumbledore curled a finger toward Filch, who had returned to the room and stood at a respectful distance. "Mr. Filch, please call for a fine dinner for one to the high table while I remain out here with our visitor. I know this should be a house elf responsibility," he said apologetically, "but I would prefer the elves remain out of sight."
Filch nodded.
"After that, please take Miss, Missus—" he looked for clarification from Snape, who merely shrugged—"well, Miss for now, Beasley's cloak and bag to the Southeast Tower. Be sure to first remove any magical portraits and other objects, and leave some matches in each room."
Filch bowed, then hurried off. As he passed, he cast a resentful glance at the woman who was causing so much trouble on an already busy night.
Dumbledore turned. "Severus, I will greet her, and leave you to do what's necessary."
Together, the two walked together through the Great Hall, the elder in white raiment flashing the occasional jewel, the younger swathed in a fabric so dark he could easily blend into a cave, she thought as the men approached. Upon reaching her, Snape merely swept past her, leaving a chilly wake. In contrast, Dumbledore opened his arms wide in greeting, his eyes twinkling with warmth.
"Nadia Beasley!" he exclaimed with pleasure. "Albus Dumbledore. It is so good to have you here! Welcome!"
His thin, gnarled hands grasped hers with surprising strength. "I hope Professor Snape didn't give you a poor impression. He can be rather dour."
She chuckled. "It's understandable. I, uh, seem to have interrupted a special event."
"Not at all. Not at all." Dumbledore waved away her concern. "Why don't you leave your coat here, and Mr. Filch will take it and your bag to your room."
She did as asked with Dumbledore's gentlemanly assistance, revealing a small purse strapped across her shoulder.
"I am sorry that we finished dinner so quickly," Dumbledore said meanwhile. "There still is plenty of food, and I would be most honored if you would join me at the high table."
Chatting amiably, the Headmaster guided her through the Great Hall and graciously helped her onto the platform. Flushed with pleasure and the anticipation of sating her appetite, Nadia took her place in the high-backed seat next to Dumbledore's throne-like post. As she gazed up at the enchanted ceiling, Dumbledore silently summoned two clean goblets and a decanter of elf wine.
"Do you imbibe, my dear?" he inquired, offering her a glass.
"Yes, please," she said appreciatively as he handed her the goblet, then poured another for himself.
"Tell me about yourself," Dumbledore invited, beaming at her with interest.
"I live near Portland, Oregon," she began. "It's not far from Seattle, which you've probably heard of." Dumbledore smiled noncommittally. "I'm an office manager."
"And how did you decide to come to Scotland?"
"I haven't had a real vacation in years," she said. Her eyebrows lifted in appreciative surprise from the elf wine's almost bittersweet but appealing taste. "I've been to England, but never up north." She cocked her head with a smile. "Everyone I know who's been to Scotland says it's wonderful."
Filch approached the table, carrying a silver tray with a plate piled with meats, vegetables and fruits, a crystal serving dish with assorted sweetmeats and desserts, and two empty dessert plates. After placing the dishes on the table, he bowed to Dumbledore and exited. Nadia tucked into her meal, which Dumbledore picked a candied orange slice from the desserts tray. "I simply can't resist these," he admitted.
"When I made reservations, there was no indication of anything special going on at this time," Nadia said between bites. "I hope I'm not going to be in the way."
"To the contrary, dear lady," Dumbledore waved way her concern. "By the way, is it Miss or Missus?"
"Ms. or Miss," she responded.
"Miss Beasley it is, then," Dumbledore lifted his glass in toast-like fashion. "Actually, I'm afraid this is not quite the castle you were expecting." Nadia looked up in surprise. "This is a school, and First Term has just begun."
Dismayed, she put down the cutlery. "You mean I got off on the wrong stop?" Her voice rose half an octave.
"Apparently so, but please do not be concerned," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "The train schedules can be so confusing. You are more than welcome to stay the night here—even now, Mr. Filch is making sure a room is ready—and we'll see you off to the correct castle after breakfast tomorrow."
She sighed. "King's Cross was overwhelmingly busy. I really did think, though, that I'd gotten the right platform, and the time was right." She turned gratefully to the Headmaster. "I'm so sorry to impose."
"Not to worry, my dear Miss Beasley," he glowed. "It can be pleasant to have a slight deviation in what has become most routine."
"You really are too kind. Thank you," she replied. "Are you the … headmaster, then?"
"Yes, and what a pleasure it is to work with enthusiastic children. They make one feel younger," he smiled, then deftly changed the subject. "What are your plans for your visit?"
"Well, once I do get to Inverlochy Castle," she smiled sheepishly, "I just want to enjoy the scenery for a few of days—hiking, sitting by the lake, that sort of thing. I'll move on to something more reasonably priced, but, well, I really wanted to stay in a real castle, four-poster bed and all." Dumbledore nodded as he bit into a chocolate-covered strawberry. "Then to Glasgow. I studied music in college and have been in various ensembles ever since. One of the groups I'm in now focuses primarily on Renaissance and Baroque music, and I finally splurged on buying a lute. I'm to pick it up there. After seeing Glasgow, I'll finish with a few days in Edinburgh."
"It's a lovely time of year in both Scotland. The heather still is in bloom."
As she wrapped up a small sample of the desserts, Filch returned, carrying a lantern.
"We have a lovely tower suite that hasn't been needed for quite some time," Dumbledore announced. "It has its own bath, a sitting room—and a four-poster."
Nadia grinned. "Maybe this wasn't such a wrong turn after all."
"Mr. Filch will take you up and ensure that you're settled comfortably," Dumbledore said. "I apologize—we don't have any electric lights, but there are plenty of candles and lamps, so you won't be wanting." She nodded understanding. "Mr. Filch will bring you breakfast at seven, and Professor Snape will arrive at seven forty-five to take you to the train." He winked. "Don't worry—his bark is worse than his bite, as the saying goes."
Nadia took Dumbledore's extended hands. "Thank you. You've certainly gone over and beyond for a wayward stranger."
"Our pleasure," Dumbledore bowed. "Sleep well."
He watched as Filch walked her to the hallway and they disappeared around the corner. Reseating himself, Dumbledore drank thoughtfully from his goblet and absently picked up another sweet.
oOo
Followed by Mrs. Norris, who had arched her back and unblinkingly eyed the visitor with suspicion, Filch trudged through the Entry Hall and toward the castle's back, warning the moving paintings along the way to stay still as he passed through again later with a guest. Snape reinforced Filch's instruction with his own narrow-eyed warnings.
Carrying Beasley's backpack and coat, Filch climbed the spiral staircase in the Southeast Tower to the fifth-floor guest suite. Muttering most of the way about the disruption in his routine, Filch had reached the landing and began sorting through his jingling keys to find the correct one when Snape unlocked the door with a silent Alohomora. The door swung open and Filch deferentially stepped aside to allow the Potions master first entrance. Placing the pack and coat upon the bed, Filch scurried off to get the dinner, glad to leave Snape to his own devices.
Snape quickly searched the American's backpack. The inevitable jeans, trousers in a more professional cut, and material, assorted black and white knits tops, two bras (C cups, he couldn't help but notice), panties, a lacey camisole, and a mauve dressing gown in a silky, lightweight fabric that was wrapped protectively around a pair of black pump shoes. On the bottom, atop hiking boots, were three small volumes—Endurance by Alfred Lansing, a tour book of England and Scotland marked with paper flags, and a vellum-paged, leather-bound prayer book.
Snape thumbed through a small notebook, finding a business card from Anthony Carney, Lute Maker, and two receipts: One from a London travel service, hand-marked "Beasley, brown case, forward to Torlundy, Sct.," the second from Inverlochy Castle, Torlundy—"The Highlands' finest scenery, accommodations and service" the slogan promised. Snape returned the papers, then finished the interior search with a whispered incantation and whisk of the slender ebony wand over each item and the pack's lining.
Various-sized zippered exterior pockets contained small bottles and packets of makeup, cleaners and a sample-sized vial of cologne; a gold bracelet and matching simple hoop earrings; tissues; a large packet of sunflower seeds; street maps of Glasgow, Edinburgh and York; a British Tourism Authority brochure about Scottish hiking trails; and a bottle of pills dispensed by a pharmacy in Forest Grove, Oregon. The coat contained only a pair of lined beige gloves, size medium, and a pack of peppermint gum.
A passport, credit cards, cash, keys, travel itinerary and tickets all were missing—inside the woman's purse, which she surely had on her, Snape surmised as he wand-tested the last of her belongings. No signs of spells or magical items were found.
Snape was long gone by the time Filch returned with the woman and extra candles.
oOo
The American was impressed as Filch guided her through ground floor halls, past banners, paintings, armor and other curiosities. On the first floor, she followed him up a foot-worn circular stone staircase, passing leaded glass windows revealing glimpses of the grounds, and a couple of closed doors. The stairs ended at a small landing. The bent man opened the door with a huge key, and she stepped into a sitting room that, far from being in disuse, appeared to have been only temporarily left by its regular occupant.
A brisk fire crackled inside the fireplace, and an elaborate filigreed clock ticked on the mantle. Two claw-foot chairs in a floral print faced each other in front of the fire, a low table between them, while a chaise lounge covered in sky-blue velvet sat along the opposite wall. Along the wall nearest the bedroom door was a bookcase, mostly empty except for a few volumes and knickknacks, and a library table. Just opposite the entry door, a tall, highly polished Queen Anne secretary desk sat ready for correspondence, and leather-bound books showed through the glassed doors. The stone floor was mostly covered with three large Abusson rugs, two in a matching blue/pink/gold floral pattern, the third under the desk in a muted beige, rust and blue design. Lit candles lined the room, sitting on the mantle, tables and desk.
Leaving a box of matches behind, Filch sourly bowed her into the bedroom. As promised, there was the four-poster bed—a huge one, draped with lace curtains and canopy, and a beautiful Jacobean-embroidered spread. An elaborately carved wardrobe standing dominated one wall. Curtains matching the spread graced a wide, high trio of leaded glass windows. The stone window seat was softened with a thick cushion, and a comfortable high-backed chair was placed next to a tea table.
Delighted, Nadia peeked into the bathroom. The floor and walls were from the same light stonework as in the sitting and bedrooms, but softened by a deep claw-footed tub and matching cream sink set into a stone surround. Open shelving was piled with thick towels. A crystal glass and matching bottles stood at the sink's edge, below a filigreed mirror. Filtered moonlight shined through a lacey curtain before the single long window.
"This is wonderful, Mr. Filch," Nadia exclaimed. "Thank you so much!" She bent to hold her spread fingers toward Mrs. Norris who, after initial scorn, left her caretaker's side to sniff, then lick, her hand.
"Hmmph," Filch muttered, a little less disagreeably. "Mrs. Norris don't normally take to strangers."
"Well, then I'm honored."
"You be needin' anything else?" he asked with grudging deferentially.
"No. This is the best." She beamed.
"If you do, just tug at that by the bed." Filch indicated a tapestry bell pull.
"I'm sure I'll be just fine," Nadia replied. "What I need most is to get on schedule with this time zone, and sleep will do it."
With a little bow, Filch left, Mrs. Norris padding behind him, tail up. The door closed with a soft snick.
Nadia sat staring into fire for some time, thinking about the turn of events. She was deeply embarrassed to have apparently taken the wrong train—or at least missing the correct stop—and inconveniencing people who were obviously busy starting a new school year. The headmaster was exceptionally kind about it, down to providing a positively magnificent room. They might have put me in a dungeon, she thought with a chuckle. Mr. Filch appeared creepy but actually was hospitable and harmless. The only thing she felt hesitant about was returning to the train station with that dark, unpleasant man. Snape, wasn't it? What an odd name, and what an odd man—not someone I'd want to run into in a dark alley, that's for sure.
Eventually, she pulled herself from the club chair to draw a bath, stopping to blow out the sitting room's candles and to remove a few things from the backpack. Opening and sniffing the countertop bottles, she determined one was bath soap, and watched it foam luxuriously under the flowing water. She slipped into the warm water and enjoyed being able to stretch her entire frame, something impossible in her apartment's little fiberglass tub.
Having scrubbed, dried and brushed her teeth, Nadia pulled on the camisole—her trip's space-saving "night gown"—and dashed across the cold stone floor to the bedroom, where her toes sank into the rug's deep wool. She blew out all but one flame on the bedside stand, pulled back the covers and climbed into the deep, wide featherbed, enjoying its soft security. With a last look toward the window and the moon, she stretched to blow out the light, then settled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of costumed children, magical ceilings, dark hallways and heather-strewn mountains.
oOo
Since last meeting with Dumbledore, Severus had prowled Hogwarts' halls, looking for miscreant students too full of sweets-charged energy to sleep. Surely the Weasley twins are up to no good. Snape's lip curled with anticipation. The possibility of deducting points even before classes began appealed to the Potions master, who silently strode through corridor after corridor, listening for any misplaced sound. Despite his best efforts, however, he found no sign of out-of-dorms young people, so he returned to his quarters and waited.
At 2 a.m., Snape snapped closed a book, rose from his desk, and pulled on a woolen robe. There still was one further task to perform before turning in.
Using his wand as a torch, Snape wove his way through the castle's corridors and stairs until he reached the landing outside the unwanted guest's door. He lowered the wand's light level, and with an unuttered incantation the door swung open silently. Snape stepped carefully inside, surveying the room and the closed bedroom door. The woman's purse was lying on the chaise. Unhurriedly, Snape opened the small bag, obviously made from a Muggle synthetic material, and removed the contents individually, making a mental note of where he found each.
A folded envelope contained Northwest and British Airways tickets, only the stubs remaining of the flights from Seattle to Chicago, and Chicago to London. There was a BritRail pass good for two weeks' use. The itinerary matched the tickets' flight routes and times, plus listed accommodations: four nights at Inverlochy Castle, a bed and breakfast in Glasgow for two, five in a Harrogate B&B, and a last night in a mid-level chain hotel near Heathrow.
The U.S. Passport contained stamps for only one prior trip, that being nine years earlier to the United Kingdom, stamped by British immigration at Heathrow Airport and by the American counterpart upon return though New York City. The black-and-white photo showed she had barely changed since the document was issued, just a slightly different hair style. "Beasley, Nadia Diana," read the name on special paper. "Date of Birth 23 Dec 58. Sex F. Place of Birth Oregon, U.S.A." An Oregon driver's license contained verifying information, plus listed a Forest Grove residence and the facts that she had brown eyes, was 5'7" and 130 pounds. The purse also contained keys, health and auto insurance cards, travelers' checks, American and British cash, lipstick, and hand cream.
Again, Snape found nothing in the purse's lining, nor any signs of magic. He replaced everything precisely, then stood, slowly guiding the lighted wand around the room to see if there was anything else to examine. Seeing nothing, the Potions master stealthily approached the bedroom door, whispered an incantation and listened. Despite the door being of heavy oak and the walls solidly-mortared stone, he could clearly hear the woman's rhythmic breathing. After several moments, he stepped away. The wind had come up, blowing a light rain against the windows.
Snape silently let himself out and returned to him rooms for rest. The day would open with an early breakfast, allowing him to take Miss Beasley to the Hogwarts Express while the students and rest of the staff were occupied with their morning meal in the Great Hall. Once he'd helped her aboard the Express and—Snape smiled with cruel anticipation—Obliviate her, removing all memories of Hogwarts and its denizens, and leaving her to believe she'd spent the night in just another tourist-catering landmark. Then he would begin a dreary day with Third-Year Gryffindors and Slytherins undoubtedly mucking up the simple lesson.
oOo
NOTES: Dumbledore is going with "Miss" because the Wizarding world seems to be far behind the times; I just can't picture him using what many older folk might think of as a feminist term. Miss Beasley, BTW, was the favorite doll's name on the 1960s TV show A Family Affair.
Inverlochy Castle is a luxury hotel in the Scottish Highlands.